


Step by Step

by beejohnlocked



Series: Desus Holiday Bingo 2K17 [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Dancing, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Paul figures it out, passing mention of the s8 midseason finale spoiler in case you haven't seen, they love each other ok?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-17 20:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13084863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beejohnlocked/pseuds/beejohnlocked
Summary: Paul makes his move.





	Step by Step

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 3 of the Desus Holiday Bingo prompt. This prompt was "dance".

"It's amazing, Maggie." Paul sipped his drink, some sort of industrial-strength alcoholic punch, and gestured around the ballroom at Barrington House. Maggie had really outdone herself this time. The large room had lights, garland and sparkling tinsel strung around the entire space and on every surface.

A Christmas tree stood in one corner, piled with lights and ornaments. It was tall enough that a ladder would've been required to decorate it. A roaring fire burned in the hearth, and the dance floor glowed with the reflections of light from around the room like something out of a classic holiday film.

On one side of the room, a long table had been set up and was filled with an assortment of food; from meats to cheeses to potatoes to cakes and cookies. It seemed as though every guest from every community had brought something to share, and Paul's stomach rumbled softly in anticipation. He didn't want to help himself until others had a chance to go through the line, so he had been drinking his dinner thus far. It was the first time they had had a feast like this. In fact, it was the first time the communities had had a party like this.

After the war, the healing and reconstruction had taken a good chunk of time. But after all was said and done, the leaders of the communities could think of no better way to celebrate the future than to have a party. With the holiday season approaching, it seemed the perfect time to get everyone together. And they indeed got _everyone_. In addition to the Hilltop, Alexandria, and the Kingdom, members of Oceanside and the Sanctuary defectors were there as well. Hell, even Jadis, the only surviving member of the Scavengers who had set up house in Oceanside because the views gave her inspiration (Paul still wasn't sure if she meant the ocean or the women) made an appearance. A rather odd one at that, looking at the tree in a critical manner and making slight adjustments to the decorations.

Yes, everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Maggie had reached the final month of her pregnancy and had been given permission from Doctor Carson to have "no more than two" glasses of wine. The abstinence from alcohol had clearly destroyed her tolerance because she'd just finished her first glass and was hanging on Paul thanking him for his kind words about the decor.

"You've always been the best guy, you know that?" Maggie hugged him giddily. "I want you to be godfather of the baby."

Paul balanced Maggie, a bit taken aback. "Are you serious?" Maggie looked momentarily offended. "I mean yes, of course," Paul amended, "but you've known Rick and Daryl a lot longer, I mean-"

"'Course I'm serious. Wouldn't have anybody else. And yeah I've known them longer. And every day I'm so glad Daryl and Rick found you. Or you found them. Whatever, I'm glad we found each other." Maggie gave a quiet hic and leaned her head on Paul's shoulder for a moment, then wandered away to hug other guests as Paul watched, amused. God, did he ever feel the same way.

To think that Paul had met people who had grown to mean the world to him was something he was still getting used to. He'd spent most of his life running and dodging any sort of lasting emotional connection. It was a natural progression from his unstable childhood. He went from drug-dealing parents who weren't home most of the time to being thrown into a overloaded and under-resourced system. He had a roof over his head and a bed to sleep in and he didn't go hungry. And, Paul supposed, that's all he could really ask for. Life could be so much worse. But people came and went all the time. He never had a constant presence around him, not longer than a few months. No one was ever interested in adopting or fostering him, so he watched a revolving door of people come and go for years. After a while, he learned not to get attached to anyone new.

After he grew up, he took odd jobs but kept up his penchant for running, never able to stay in one place for long and definitely never able to make real connections. The world fell apart and he eventually found his place at the Hilltop. And of course it fit him; it gave him an opportunity to keep up the life he'd grown accustomed to after so many years. He could run, he could be useful and have a job, but he didn't make connections and he didn't let people get to him.

And then one fateful day, a couple of guys pulled up to a gas station he'd been raiding for supplies. He remembered thinking that they looked like trouble, watching curiously as they maneuvered a vending machine. He remembered wanting that truck and the supplies he knew would be on it. And he remembered the stir he felt in his stomach as he observed one of the men, watching his arms flex and glisten in the sun, smirking ironically at the angel wings on the back of his vest. He made the decision to steal the truck, which turned out to be the best decision he'd ever made.

But nothing could've prepared him for being face to face with Daryl. After he'd quite literally run into Rick and snatched his keys he'd had to hold back a gasp as he backed away from the men. He had two guns pointed directly in his face, but he hardly even noticed. What he _did_ notice, however, was the way his chest clenched when he locked gazes with Daryl Dixon for the first time. Fiery, blazing blue eyes met his own, only half obscured by the hair that hung in his face.

Paul had managed to get through his bullshit walker spiel and take off, but those eyes didn't leave him. That was the first, but certainly not the last thing about Daryl that had burrowed its way under Paul's skin and set up camp in his pores. It only took a couple of weeks, but by the time he escaped the sanctuary on the back of a motorcycle, his arms holding Daryl's waist just a hair tighter than necessary, he had to come to terms with the fact that he was well and truly done for. Besotted was the word that came to mind, as old fashioned as it was. But it fit.

Daryl made him feel off kilter in a way Paul never had before, like the Earth was left spinning off its axis and he was constantly trying to regain his footing. Whether Daryl hit him with a tiny, shy smile or a cutting remark, Paul soaked it up like a flower turning toward the sun.

He wanted to _woo_ Daryl. As cheesy as it sounded, Paul had been thoroughly seduced without any effort on the part of the other man; he did it just by existing. Paul desperately wanted him to feel the same way Paul did. He wasn't sure how Daryl had become so very dear to him, but he was, and Paul had been trying unsuccessfully for months to make a move. It just never felt like the right moment or mood.

But this...tonight...the ambiance of the ballroom and festive party seemed to create the perfect opportunity. It _was_ Christmas, after all.

No sooner did he have this thought that Paul caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Daryl sat in one corner of the room, drink in hand, looking...kind of sad. Which was odd. Since the war ended, it was like a weight had been lifted from Daryl. He'd made peace with Dwight, he talked and joked more. He laughed. Oh God, did he laugh. And Paul fell ever more in love with him. But now, he seemed alone. And then Paul understood. Almost everyone had paired off after the war. Some even _triangled_ off. With peace and immediate threats seemingly gone, suddenly everyone was love-starved and working toward the future.

Paul suddenly understood how lonely Daryl must've felt. Rick and Michonne were stronger than ever, even with the loss of Carl. Michonne had just announced she was pregnant a month before. Judith was getting older. And Daryl seemed to feel less and less like he belonged in the Grimes household. Now that Paul thought about it, he realized how much time Daryl had been spending at the Hilltop, showing up at Paul's trailer and crashing on the couch at least as often as he stayed at his house in Alexandria.

Paul froze in realization.

Daryl had asked once, a couple of months before, if he was being a nuisance.

"Of _course_ not. I love having you here. You're great company, though a bit of a chatterbox sometimes," Paul had teased.

"It's just, it seems like everyone is coupling up." Daryl had looked at the floor and shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"You noticed that too, huh?"

"Thought this might be a good place for me to be."

Paul had smiled. "You're more than welcome. Anytime."

Daryl had looked chagrined while he nodded and retreated to the couch. He'd not brought it up again, but he still spent at least half his time there.

Back in the present, Paul wanted to slap himself. He was an idiot. A supreme idiot. He'd been waiting for the perfect moment, not realizing that Daryl had been sending him signals for months. How could he not have realized what Daryl was trying to say? How could he have been so blind? He was so wrapped up in his own feelings, he'd been completely oblivious to Daryl's. And suddenly Rick's recent coolness toward him made a hell of a lot more sense. He'd been short with him lately, but Paul assumed it was just stress over Michonne's pregnancy or something.

He was fixing this. Now. Paul gulped his drink and set the glass onto a table. He marched over to Daryl with determination, the other man noticing his approach when he was about half way. Daryl stood up a little straighter, looking confused but attentive. When Paul reached him, he had no clue what to say, so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

"Dance with me."

Daryl swallowed, then gave a slow little nod. Paul took his hand and led him to the ballroom floor, where various couples were twirling to the music. _I'm actually holding his hand_ , Paul thought with a thrill. Daryl's hand was a little sweaty, but he gripped Paul like a lifeline. A new song began as they walked to the center of the floor.

 _Have yourself a merry little Christmas_  
_Let your heart be light  
From now on our troubles will be out of sight_

Paul turned toward Daryl, feeling like all eyes in the room were on them and finding himself loving the attention. He was proud that Daryl was with him, that he _wanted_ to be with him. He didn't know what the hell they were doing, or who was even leading. They probably looked like a couple of nervous teenagers, clasping hands and swaying awkwardly at first.

 _Have yourself a merry little Christmas_  
_Make the Yuletide gay  
From now on our troubles will be miles away_

As the music continued, they slowly made their way into each other's arms until they were holding each other loosely, taking small steps together in a circular motion. Paul's head fell against Daryl's chest, unbidden, making the other man tremble ever so slightly.

 _Here we are as in olden days_  
_Happy golden days of yore_  
_Faithful friends who are dear to us  
Gather near to us once more_

"This my favorite Christmas song," Paul's voice was a whisper; a confession.

"Why?" Daryl's hands ran through his hair as they stepped and turned, stepped and turned.

"It's beautiful...but it's kind of melancholic. It's a little sad in a way. I feel like it just fits this time of the year. Cold and dark but warm and bright at the same time." As if in answer, the song went into its conclusion.

 _Through the years we all will be together_  
_If the fates allow_  
_Hang a shining star upon the highest bough  
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now_

They had stopped moving. Paul's hands found themselves on Daryl's cheeks, stroking along the skin there. "Daryl," he choked out.

Daryl kissed him. Or maybe it was Paul that kissed Daryl. Suddenly they were kissing, deliciously fierce and breathless. Paul lifted himself to his tiptoes, trying to get leverage, his hands slipping from Daryl's cheeks into his hair and tugging. Daryl licked into Paul's mouth in return and Paul pulled him closer, arching into him.

“Jesus Christ,” Paul rasped, opening his eyes. Daryl made a soft noise in his throat and rested his forehead against Paul's.

"Thought that was your name."

It set them both off, and suddenly they were doubled over each other in blissful laughter and trying to prop the other up. As they tapered off, Daryl rested a hand on Paul's cheek and gave the softest, most contented smile Paul had ever seen out of the man.

"Come back here,” Paul said and tugged Daryl down so he could capture his mouth once again.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, in that cocoon, rocking and kissing and holding each other. Long enough for the music to end. Long enough for the fire to burn to embers. Long enough for most of the partygoers to drift away. Long enough for Paul to plan out their future as a couple in his own mind.

The dance of life stretched out before them, but Paul knew they would figure out the moves. They just had to take it step by step.

 


End file.
